Reduced to Nothing
by Somewhere Sky
Summary: A charming Ginny & Draco One-Shot. Rating for strong use of sexual tension and otherwise invigorating wordplay.


**Reduced to Nothing**  
By: _Somewhere Sky_

Disclaimer: Of course, as always - the rights to the Harry Potter realm of fiction belongs solely  
to J.K Rowling and her brilliant mind. Although I may admit, I shall always be slightly jealous.

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_A One Shot dedicated to the temper of Ginny and contentment of Draco in response to a fiction challenge in the DG Forum,_  
_details listed below in regards to the challenge specifics._

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To say self-doubt is what makes the sane plausibly mad - is an excruciating truth. Draco Malfoy was aware of this and had he inclined to believe said fact; than the platinum-haired gentleman would be just that, sane. However, the stability of the mind was not a trait or learned skill of the Malfoy boy; he felt mad, batty if you might. Draco Malfoy believed himself to be Saint Mungo's deployed in the near future, especially considering his most recent excursions.

He had been aimlessly wandering the halls following a Quidditch game and had caught a glimpse of her silhouette disappearing around the corner. The younger Weasley had separated herself from her friends, and branched off into a lesser-travelled corridor of the many Hogwarts' Hallways. It was darker here, emptier; more deserted. An unearthly chill fell upon the hallway as she crossed through. All portraits hushed and movement paused, as if time itself did not dare continue its incessant journey in the presence of such a creature. She walked so gracefully that she appeared to float through the silence, seemingly unaware of his presence behind her. The only sound of echo was that of the girl's footsteps; Draco matched his steps to hers as he followed closely behind the small frame of a female. He was convinced that she could hear his heart rate spiking in terror; as he trampled on every belief he was ever taught with each and every step and breath that succumbed forward in curiosity toward her. It was a craving that had led him here...

He admired the way her hair fell in lines down her back, swaying with each swing of her hips. Her beauty was both unnatural and breathtaking – a nightmare in motion, yet poetry personified – and it was no mystery why none could tear their eyes away from her. From that first moment, he was ensnared and Draco stood no hope of escape. He could almost taste her...

She stopped ahead of him, statuesque.

"If you take so much as one more step, in Merlin's name I will not be so kind as to transfigure you, but obliterate you Draco Malfoy" she scolded.

Draco smirked, and stood in place as she whipped her body around with force to face his antagonizing smile. Her face, canvassed in anger, resembled the red temper of her hair. Her perfect lips curved into a grin, her countenance flushed and her pale, flawless skin seemed to almost glow in the dim light. Draco found himself resisting the urge to pale them with the brushing motion of his thumb, or with the shock of an unexpected –

Her wand gripped between her twig-like fingertips, ripped from her robes in defense and directed, steadily and without hesitation toward the sneering boy; it was assumed that Ginny Weasley did so with accuracy, her reputation preceding her temperament.

"Going to hex me, Weasley?"

"If necessary, perhaps; or maybe just for plain ol' Elementary school fun," she retorted. Her words flaring like venom from her precious, rosy lips. Draco watched the way she bit her lower one with a fierce concentration; her emerald eyes shooting only the most debilitating of looks. He could sense the cold of her heart emanating in his direction.

_And oh, how desperate he was to warm it._

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"Follow me from the game did'ya Ferret?" She spat, ending the silence, "I should assume that you're here to congratulate me on the 350-100 score win for Gryffindor?" she tantalized.

"Something of that variety." He whispered, taking small calculated steps toward her. Both sets of eyes refused to break contact, they stood at a stand-still in the middle of a deserted hallway, the only one in motion being Draco as he cornered the young Gryffindor to Ginny's own amusement. Her body didn't twitch with fear as he had anticipated, but rather her back perked with confidence. Her expression was of repulsion as he stood inches from her face, a hand of his resting on the wall beside her head.

She was still in her Quidditch robes.

"Didn't bother to change Weasley?" he asked, his forehead almost touching hers, the space between them lessening. Mere breaths separated their forms, each could barely move without their bodies grazing up against one another.

"As you neglected to also," Ginny replied.

"So I did," he leered with arrogance, his smile twisting into an ego-maniacal grin.

"You know," Ginny whispered, her voice softening; "I kind of like a man in uniform. The way his body fits tight against the skin of the fabric." Ginny stood, forcing Draco to take a step backward as she let a nicely polished fingernail trace the muscles of his chest. She was taking steps forward, pushing him into a more open space and away from the wall. '_Get__ting__ off the rope_s' as the saying goes.

"Each refined line of muscular curve and how it taunts a witch who can see just where the lines," Ginny murmured, an intimate rasp of air evading her voice as she used her nails to make a light scratch of a motion to tease his chest, "meet."

Draco was speechless. He had underestimated Ginny Weasley, and now became suddenly familiar with why many of the young men at Hogwarts pined for her. The way she spoke was intoxicating, her words like sweet strawberries on the tongue. The way her body danced in waves, slow and precise. She was a very hard witch to ignore.

Draco grabbed her hips, slamming his waist against hers and pulling her in closely. He didn't bother to look into her eyes, had he noted her gaze he would have recognized the pools of darkness in her expression, embellished by an anger he induced. To look into those eyes was to teeter on the brink of an abyss and so Draco paid no mind to whose hips he held in the grip of his hands, he didn't care to remember who it was he was craving. He wanted nothing more than to acknowledge that what _this _was; was nothing. With his eyes closed, he failed to notice the witch's hand as it grazed in a line-like motion downward until she brushed against a swelling piece of uniform, not standard uniform protocol.

His lips inched towards hers, anticipating wetness, softness...

"_Locomotor Mortis!_" she shouted with vigor.

Draco's legs were quickly bound, and in a loss of balance his body slumped to the floor in one big mound of a motion. He reached for his wand only to have his fingers met with the heel of her Quidditch boot. The heel ground into his already weak hand, preventing him from fighting back. Paralyzing him to a sweaty mass on the floor, looking up at her grin.

"If you ever so much as breathe in my direction again…" Draco felt as she found the part of his Quidditch gear that didn't mask his previous excitement, "I won't be shrinking what's left up here," she hissed while tapping his forehead with her wand, "I'll be making what is already minuscule to see.." she bent over and whispered into his ear, "non-existent."

Draco was frozen. He wanted nothing more than to hex her, have her locked in some shack of a closet for no one to find. He was humiliated and sickened but at the same time, he couldn't deny a slight arousal. He rolled over onto his stomach, his wand still in hand as he pointed it toward her, his lips had barely began to open when she spun around once more.

"_Reducto!_"

Draco flinched, thinking the spell was aimed at him and thus was surprised, and to no disagreement - relieved to find it was a pot beside him that had been reduced to ash as opposed to his head, himself, or the precious snake of a thing he was forced to keep in his pants.

"Next time Malfoy," she declared, her voice echoing as she walked around the corner, "No uniform".

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A thanks to Audrey who beta'd this fiction of mine.

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**Author's Note:**

Prompt: Draco in Quidditch Gear.  
Bonus Points: Set in Hogwarts Era.  
Minimum: 300 words, no max.  
Deadline: April 15th

I'm actually pretty proud of this piece, Audrey was an incredible help but I have to give it to the challenge as well for inspiration, it turned out exactly as I wanted it. If not better. Word count is 1,327 without all the Author Mumbo/Jumbo.

Thank you so kindly for reading, **R&R** as always.

_~ Somewhere Sky._


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